


Deeds of the Hallows

by Ashmem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 4 Privet Drive, Abused Harry Potter, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashmem/pseuds/Ashmem
Summary: In which a boy with a fated lightning bolt shaped scar has to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders whilst simultaneously dragging his problems along silently beside him.Harry James Potter, now on the brink of turning the dreaded fifteen that brings along the stress of O.W.L. exams, is enthusiastically awaiting any word from the ever-so-silent magical community.Without access to the Daily Prophet and so far receiving no letters except for his annual Hogwarts letter, Harry feels as if he is going to end up insane. With another summer comes forced time with his dear aunt, uncle and cousin, along with the newfound treatment they decided to impose on Harry.This summer has been made just a little harder, but with the still healing scars of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry is not coping nor fending well in any sense. But by the time word gets out about Harry's new and old living conditions, the Order and the rest of his friends might be too late in stopping the Boy-Who-Lived from collapsing in on himself any further.
Kudos: 86





	Deeds of the Hallows

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome!
> 
> If you are not new to this little thing, then you already know that this was once the set up for a story. Things have changed a bit since that time. I apologize for my spontaneity, lack of reliability with updates and such, but I have since realized what is right for me, which path I would like to take with my writing, and recognizing in myself what I could work with as a real story and what serves as a simple one-shot in my imagination.
> 
> The great thing about fanfiction is that you're taking something that's already written out and making it into something of your own.
> 
> I have despised the idea of writing one-shots for YEARS. The thing is, now, that I know that I am unreliable in updating for the simple fact of: any and all writing I put out there, I take immense pride and happiness in. There are plenty of things I write that you do not see (as strange as that sounds since I'm never online these days). I have struggled with this part of myself, and many other parts for that matter, but I am done struggling.
> 
> I am going to do what is best for me, what I want to--whatever that may be. So, for right now, that entails doing this.
> 
> If you are a first-time reader, please disregard or do what you will with the information above.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little tidbit from the depths of my Harry Potter imaginative mind (that sounds really weird). Know that anything I post as a one-shot could very well turn into a full story. I am not incapable of writing stories--of this I am sure. I simply just do not do it for a handful of reasons. No motivation (because I always try on stories with no substance), no imagination (because I try to force ideas out, not good), and because my mind moves quickly.
> 
> With no substance comes new ideas I want to try out.
> 
> Thank you for partaking on this journey with me. I very much appreciate it.
> 
>  **NOTE:** this A/N is also in _The Passing Over_ for the exact same reasons.

The grass beneath Harry's feet crunched loudly as he tore through the park, his breaths coming out heavily. Panic settled in and Harry was tempted to look behind him for just a split second.

He needed to get back to the Dursleys' home. He could take Magnolia Crescent or even double-back onto Wisteria Walk if he was sneaky enough. But there was a thin alley that stretched from Magnolia to Wisteria, and if they noticed him out of their field of view, then . . .

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a hand reach out, farther, farther, and _WHAM!_ He was rolling on the ground now, trying to push Piers Polkiss off of him and keep his wand safely tucked into his trousers. Only, Piers weighed about five stones more than he did and had about seven inches on him in height.

A meaty fist slammed upwards into his jaw, another to his already bruised ribs. Dudley loomed over him now, a menacing glint shining in his eyes. More hands grabbed at his oversized, ripped shirt and tugged. The fabric fell apart around him, already faintly tinted red.

Harry's bare torso was starkly littered with bruises and cuts, but that didn't stop Dudley and his gang from continually raining them down. Dudley snapped his fingers once and shouted something out, only Harry couldn't make out the words over the deafening ringing in his ears and growing pounding in his head.

It was a while after that when he realized he was laying in the middle of Magnolia Road alone, bleeding, and feeling too weak to get up. Because, despite all of his efforts, all moving did was leave a sense of overwhelming nausea, vertigo and pain throughout his entire body, which did not make for very solid and smooth transportation. He figured he'd do himself more harm than good if he kept it up.

And so Harry laid there until he felt capable enough to make it back to Privet Drive. During his long trek back, dusk wandered in, bringing with it many memories of the past school year he had furiously tried to suppress.

Street lamps flickered on, leaving eerie shadows on either side of the street. In the glint of metal and glaring light, he saw something far more sinister. _Kill the spare_ , echoed out from an alcove he could not see. Then it was his own voice in his mind, _Cedric!_ he screamed, as the dark green flash of _Avada Kedavra_ flew across his eyelids.

Harry ran, stumbled, and tried to get there before the spell slammed into Cedric, but was helpless as he watched Cedric fall, never quite being able to reach him. Then, it was his parents. Their paling bodies seemingly glowing in the haze of moonlight that stretched before him.

He knew his friends' bodies would join them soon, as was per custom of the night terrors, visions and flashbacks he was pulled into on what he referred to as his worst days.

Harry fell sideways onto the mailbox of Arabella Figg of Number Six, and felt relief that he'd made it back in one piece. The relief was short-lived, however, as he jumped as he heard a door slam open.

He glanced up to see the redish-purple face of his uncle, Vernon Dursley, bounding down the driveway. His anger made him stiff, which made Harry's breathing become even shallower.

Harry staggered through the empty street and onto the polished front of the garden he had been working so hard on maintaining.

A hand was harshly wrapped around his thinning forearms. From there, he was soon across the pavement to the awaiting open door of Number Four.

It was only when he stared straight ahead, back at the bloody hand print he'd left on Mrs. Figg's mailbox that his eyes roved over the usually open windows of her house. This time, however, her curtains were drawn, and there was no face gazing out at the street beyond.

There was no one to see Harry Potter, the great Boy-Who-Lived, be dragged back into his childhood home. There was no one to see the abuse crush him again and again, both inside and outside of the house. There was no one to see the annual mistreatment and starvation of a boy whom everyone had sworn to protect.

And there was no one to see when that spark in his eyes had finally gone out, nor the despair and hopelessness appear to take the temporary spot of happiness and joy he renounced to feel every year.

**Author's Note:**

> Original chapter title when this was supposed to be a full fanfic: _three sides to every story_


End file.
